Chanel Haute Couture advertisment

24 entries categorized "Social Awareness"

July 12, 2008

Mr. Right, Mr. Maybe, Mr. Good Enough.

Mr. Right, Mr. Maybe, Mr. Good Enough.

Ladies and gentlegays, here's something for you to answer. No buts, ifs and definitely no exceptions. If you are a straight male, kindly replace all the male bits with female bits.

mr right, mr maybe, mr good enough

Answers on a postcard!

August 30, 2007

People in Need

People in Need

Oh hello there. I love Dutch people! Here's the latest rendition of my infamous bag pose (which I found while bloghopping) courtesy of Mensen in Nood (People in Need), a charity organization based in the Netherlands.

Swedish fashion photographer Carl Stolz (yep, Sweden again) took this photo somewhere in Africa.

Mensen in Nood

I can't even tell whether that person is a man or a woman (are those ribs or tits) but her dress reminds me of Lanvin, complete with the black patent leather belt, no? It does make you think -- how many people can your fake white Marc Jacobs bag feed for a day? A month? An entire year? I'm quite surprised they used a €32 bag when most bags these days are at least in the US$2,000 range. Well, the designer ones anyway.

SkeleI don't know about you but they should've gone straight to me and I would've gladly posed for charity for free because I'm a charity case.

And I'm thinner.

Well, I was.

Now I'm fat with lots of stretch marks. HAHAA

PS. Thanks Zoe!
PPSS. Click here to donate to The Hunger Site because there are people starving somewhere in the world (they deserve food more than you do) and the last thing you want to happen is to get fat. JK.

July 09, 2007

Public Service Announcement: Yes, I know. The glamour of it all.

Public Service Announcement: Yes, I know.

The universe just sent me a sign and it opened up my eyes I saw the sign. I have no idea how I landed on this French guy's website. The photos on his site are rather, well, disturbing, and to think, I'm in the same country, if not city, as him. Yes, I know. Don't start. Some things are better left unsaid. I'm not exactly heartless you know, and yes, I am capable of feeling miserable and shitty.

third world poverty

Click click click!

Continue reading "Public Service Announcement: Yes, I know. The glamour of it all." »

August 15, 2006

Community Service: Post Office, Homophobic Old Men

Community Service

I'm gonna dedicate this post to the cesspit of the third world I call home, aka the land of the brown, l'exotique and the natives. God knows the last time I offered my services to the community but here goes.

#1 - What's up with the Philippine Postal System? My ever so fabulous best friend/silent right hand Miss Eunice, sent another batch of 100 "I *heart* Bryanboy" sticker packets to people all over the world earlier this afternoon and the damn counter bitch at the Alabang Post Office didn't issue a receipt! This is the 2nd time it happened. Fuck me bad once, shame on you, fuck me bad twice shame on the government!

According to Miss Eunice, she gave all the envelopes to the counter bitch, who then weighed each and every one of them before letting it pass through the franking machine. The postal lady gave Miss Eunice a total figure, which she obviously paid.

Anyway, I specifically told Eunice to ASK FOR A RECEIPT this time because she didn't get one the last time. I know postage costs vary depending on the destination and the weight of each envelope. I have absolutely NO idea how the receipt system works at Post Office but I know in the USA, everything is computerized and you get a receipt with EACH item listed, destinations, amounts and all.

When the lady gave Miss Eunice her change, Eunice asked the counter bitch for a receipt. The lady then told her "we don't issue receipts."

Continue reading "Community Service: Post Office, Homophobic Old Men" »

July 24, 2006

All bruised up on a Sunday night

All bruised up on a Sunday night

Finally! I can't even remember the last time I posted a picture of myself on this website. A lot of you are worried because I haven't camwhored recently but I've got nothing and no one else to blame other than myself. I've been channelling domestic goddess Martha Stewart because of my recent lipo and today is the first day I managed to get out of the house. I met up with a writer who interviewed me for a local magazine and I also met up a friend for a little chat/dinner.

I hereby present you my first public appearance after my recent "uhhhperation".


Both my arms are all swollen and bruised up but it's all good. You should know by now that I don't mind doing a little bit of sacrifice here and there... all in the name of vanity.

Continue reading "All bruised up on a Sunday night" »

June 12, 2006

Checkpoint: Stopped by the Police, Jakob went to the prom and took his granny with him!

Checkpoint: Stopped by the Police

Oh my god. We got stopped by the cops on our way home last night and boy it was hilarious.


"Good evening young ladies. Sorry for the inconvenience, will you please turn your lights on?"

First things first, I would like to greet all my countrymen, anyone who's got a snot-colored passport (like I do) from the land of the brown, l'exotique and the natives, the cesspit of the third world aka Las Islas Fililpnas, a HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY!

Philippine flags photo credit:

Tang ina ninyo lahat mga hampaslupa itayo ang bandera ng Pilipinas!!! Hoy mga bakla ako ang pinakamaganda sa inyong lahat hahahahahahahahaha! Echos!

Continue reading "Checkpoint: Stopped by the Police, Jakob went to the prom and took his granny with him!" »

May 29, 2006

Moscow Needs Some Faggotry. Big Time., Meet Dhani Lennevald, Bryanboy Loves... and Random Cheesemax, LOTS OF LOVE From Around the World

Moscow Needs Some Faggotry. Big Time.


I'm sure you've heard the news on how Moscow's first ever gay pride got trashed by a ton of nationalists, skinheads, religious fanatics and such. Thanks to Moscow's homophobic mayor Yuri Luzhkov (who put a ban on the event), Russian fags and queers were deprived of such celebration... and some of them even got beaten up.

Continue reading "Moscow Needs Some Faggotry. Big Time., Meet Dhani Lennevald, Bryanboy Loves... and Random Cheesemax, LOTS OF LOVE From Around the World" »

May 12, 2006

Princess Di Would Be Sooo Proud of Me

051206_stophivPrincess Di Would Be Sooo Proud of Me

That's because I did something for charity... and to think, it doesn't happen very often because I'm a selfish... err, I'm a very selfish person. Why worry about third world poverty when you're experiencing poverty yourself because you can't afford that US$30,000 crocodile Birkin bag on ebay? Why save the whales when it makes perfect sense to worry about liposuction instead? Afterall, I'd rather go under the butcher's knife than become a whale myself.

Charity schmarity.

Remember how I did this thing for HIV Awareness Campaign a couple of weeks ago? Well, I went to the party last night at my usual haunt La Embajada and boy, I had soo much fun!!!!!

It really is a good thing that there's an organization out there who promotes HIV Awareness. Philippines is a super fabulous country with 84 million bronzed rodents (myself included and I'm the worst rodent ever). Overpopulation is already an awful problem because some mother fucker can't keep his dick in his pants and some slut is willing to open up her legs and get sperminated  (just ask my mother and father) and you certainly don't want to add HIV/Aids to the list of such problems.

051206_navyI, for one, had an HIV scare early last year. When you get gangbanged by a bunch of Russian navy cadets with all of them shooting their load up your ass, it will really make you reconsider your sexual habits. I had no clue that Russia had one of the fastest growing number of HIV infections. Imagine the shock when I read an article about it as soon as I got back from a vacation in Moscow and St. Petersburg. I spent the next several months in paranoiaville and constantly worried whether I got all pozzed up.

I eventually got tested after 3 AND 6 months and came out HIV-negative and disease-free. I even have the certificate to prove it. Click >here to read more about my testing drama last year.

I won't deny that it DOES feel good to get fucked without a condom on and feel someone's cock throbbing up your rectum until he covers the top of your hard brown turd with his milky white creamy population paste. It's sooo bad that it actually feels sooo good. It's the though of having someone plant their seed in your brown intenstinal soil.

The bad news is, 15-30 minutes of carnal pleasure is not worth YEARS of battling a disease which pretty much results to death.


Not bad eh?

Shit, a couple of days ago I was joking with my Mexican friend Mauricio, who is now in Madrid, telling him how we should go bugchasing because we're fat and we need to lose weight like HIV+ people. When I think about it now, it's not a funny joke at all. There are millions of suffering HIV+ people in the world and they're all fighting a war they will never win.






I don't know whether they'll put the pictures there because the gallery isn't working the last time I checked it. If they do, ignore everyone you see on that site and just focus on me because I'm the prettiest. HAHAHAHA!

Remember: you won't catch HIV by jacking off to my photos.

Play it safe mother fuckers! Spread the love, NOT the virus.

Love Me, Love Me, Say That You Love Me

More love from all over the world. Sweden, Singapore, Australia and NYC!!!





I know I said no photo shop but I'll make an exception to these lazy australians because I have a soft spot for people who live down south.


Big shout out to everyone at Euforia TV. I'm glad my faggotry is appreciated by the Latino community as well.

Email me and tell me you love me. Email or SMS +63.915.785.1492.

I love you all...


PS. Discuss this blog post here.

May 07, 2006

Work itttt! Exercise!, Today's Obligatory Paparazzi Shot, 5 Seconds of TV Air Time, Lovely Europeans

050706_embaWork ittttt! Exercise!

After approximately 3 weeks of channeling domestic goddess Martha Stewart, I finally put my best dancing shoes on and went to the city yesterday evening to infuse some nightlife into my system. I'm seriously surprised how I managed to stay indoors in the past couple of weeks. Shit, I've been hibernating in my own little world filled with plaid aprons, white carnations and yellow daisies.

Any child of MY age SHOULD BE out there indulging in crime, mischief and scandals... or get themselves drunk till they pass out and vomit whatever they ate during the day. They should also do hard drugs, enjoy unsafe sex with multiple partners until they get sperminated or preggers and of course, catch a sexually transmitted disease that can be sorted out by a bunch of antibiotics or lice shampoo. Afterall, life is too short not to experience such hell-worthy sins.

Let's face it, it's a waste of youth to stay indoors on a Saturday night, especially if you're in your late teens with raging hormones (like me). I've been ITCHING to expose myself to the toxicity of bars, booze and clubs so I decided to do just that.

I left the house at 10:30PM. On my way to a friend's house, REALITY knocked on my car window while we're waiting for the stoplight to turn green: the REAL and SAD face of the "FAUX-bulous" third world I live in.


Why is there a young boy, probably younger than 10 years old, selling flowers on the streets late at night when he should be at home asleep?

And there I was... all comfortable in my fully-airconditioned crappy car, all dolled up and decked in ridiculous outfits + accessories that can pretty much feed this child for a year and even send him to a good school.

It really made me think for a second and trust me, this doesn't happen VERY OFTEN considering I'm the most selfish and materialistic son of a bitch you'll probably ever come across.


I kinda felt guilty about my sins so I gave the kid a bag of chips and a bottle of gatorade that I had in my car.


He smiled and thanked me. I asked if I can take a photo, he said yes. I thanked him and I closed the window.

I tried to delete, delete, delete, abort, abort, abort, whatever just happened from my head. It wasn't the right time to think about charity and world peace. My mission for the night is to have fun and paint the town periwinkle. The most important thing in the world at that moment is the fact that I'm so fucking beautiful and that was that.

050706_marikoAnyway, I picked up my friend at her place. I also asked my driver to stop by at the cash machine so I can take out some cash. Usually I don't take out that much since everywhere I go takes credit cards - booze, food, botles of champagne, drug dealers, hired hitmen, shit, even prostitutes these days take credit cards... all it takes is one swipe on their ass cheeks and they're yours for the night.

So yeah, US$20 is enough for the night to cover highway toll-fees, fast food take out, tips, my driver's fee, etc.

After entering my pin number, the machine asked how much cash I wanted to take out.

Out of nowhere, I had mental images and flashbacks of the street child's face. The thought of using my visa card to pay for a night's worth of debauchery gave me a weird feeling at the pit of my stomach. Gone are the days where I'd easily and effortlessly throw my plastic to the air and rack up a 6-foot long bar tab in 6pt Arial font.

I figured I'm gonna ditch the visa for once and pay in cash the entire night so I don't go overboard. Afterall, there are children starving on the streets. I entered P3,000, which is about US$60.

Our first stop was this bar called "Nuvo" where we spent quality time chatting. I had a gin tonic and 3 frozen margaritas. It was refreshing indeed.

We then went to my usual haunt, La Embajada. They recently got renovated and it's the first time I went there after their renovation. They now have 2 VIP areas, which is a good thing.

I thought I'd do the infamous Bryanboy pose. Afterall, it was at La Embajada where I gave birth to that pose.


There weren't a lot of familiar faces so it was fun to let my hair down for a change, get all sweaty and wrecked.

It's refreshing to ditch the glitz, the glamour, the pretension and just dance, dance, dance and sweat like a fuckin rapist!

A fan from Australia even approached me and said hi. See, I'm nice and I don't bite. I got a photo of us taken. Shit, I probably scared the living hell out of her. HAHAHHA. Sorry babes!


Man, it's just like the good ol' days when me and my sister would go to the club, booze our guts out,  dance like there's no such thing as tomorrow.

I must have lost 5 pounds from all that dancing! To hell with it, I had a complete body workout.

This guy is a good DJ. For the life of god I can't remember his name and I've seen him many, many times.


Sunglasses by Gucci, bracelet from Hermès, cropped hoodie by Norma Kamali for Everlast, tank top by Fake London, jeans by Fake London, shoes by Dior Homme, Ursula Elise bag from Marc Jacobs collection.


The Marc Jacobs bag is available at all Marc Jacobs boutiques worldwide, Neiman Marcus, Saks, Bergdorf and eLuxury (US$1,050) in the USA.

Marc Jacobs Collection Gift With Purchase

We left the club at around 3:30AM. I dropped my friend home then I stopped by at McDonald's for a post-clubbing snack. I orderedd chicken nuggets, 2 large fries, a double cheeseburger, a big mac and a large coke.

And yes bitches, I ate them all. There goes my 5 pounds eh?


Today's Obligatory Paparazzi Shot

Due to high demand from my readers, I am now gonna post an "obligatory paparazzi shot" going on forward. Many of you have emailed telling me you enjoy these shots so I'll try to do this often.

Isn't it my cropped hoodie sooo Muslim chic? Perhaps I should make a trend out of the burka. Sooo sexy!



Guess who got 5 seconds of TV Air Time in San Diego, California?

I'd like to give a big shout out to Peter from San Diego. In his own words, "thousands of San Diegans know that somebody in San Diego loves Bryanboy."

Peter sent a text message to be shown on the big screen in between performances. It's a concert featuring Mary J. Blige, Rihanna, Chris Brown and other folks.

Visit Peter's website at

Thanks babe. You're a doll!!! You're doing the world a big favor by spreading my gospel and the glory of my faggotry.

Lovely Europeans

Those Europeans sure do know how to make a gook like me happy. They love their labels as much as I do.

Meet Oliver from France...


...Terry from Italy


... and of course, the father of my first born child, Alex from the UK, who is the original "I LOVE BRYANBOY mascot.




It's Sunday, 6:54PM. I'm gonna work on Podcast #006 and my much-awaited Bryanboy Loves... and Random Cheesemax post.

You all know where to contact me. Email or SMS +63.915.785.1492.

I love you all. Don't do anything that I won't do and remember kids, keep your chastity belts on.


PS. Discuss this blog post here.

April 26, 2006

I'm getting bored...

I'm getting bored...

First things first... I'd like to give a big shout out to readers of Elle Girl magazine in the Netherlands. Thanks for loving and talking about me.



Ok. My Dutch is all wrong and that's what I get from using one of those online translator things. Hopefully y'all get the jist out of it. HAHAHAHA!

Moving on...

I finally managed to get my lazy fat ass to my dermatologists yesterday afternoon. There's a photo shoot I need to go to and I have to look pretty.

First stop: Coffee Bean

THANK god the whipped cream-serving bulldyke of a midget wasn't there. I don't want anyone to be spitting on my drink (unless they're cute, hot and rich... but then again, no cute, hot and rich person will work as a barista) after whingeing on my blog.

Just to be safe, I EXPLICITLY told the lovely lady behind the counter that I DO NOT WANT WHIPPED CREAM on my drink... my wish is her command.


Cardigan by LAROK, white tank top by Calvin Klein, brown/rust-colored jeans from Acne Jeans (Sweden), boots from Fruit, bag from Hermès, amber and gold necklace from Kenneth Jay Lane, sunglasses from Dior

Boy I got a surprise for all of you.

You see, I often get asked as to who takes my photos. In addition to my familia de horreur members and friends, well, let me unveil one of them. Meet my maid, Eunice.


Eunice has been my maid for quite some time and she's the best, best, best friend a faggot like me can ever have. She's got everything about me memorised. She knows some of my deepest, darkest secrets. She's been with me through obesity and thin and up to this day, I've never heard a single word (.. or grunt) from her in spite of everything that she's done for me, like cleaning up all my puke on the bathroom floor after a good night out... or  my soiled, skid mark-infested underwear.

My nonsexual wife anorexic daughter Hannah would complain about her "hunchback" maid, Simang, every once in a while.

HOY HANNAH, at least your maid ain't a lesbian!!!

Today's obligatory paparazzi shot.042506_paparazzi

I have a feeling my maid Eunice might be a lesbo. I've never seen her show any kind of perverted emotion towards guys.

OK... WAITTTTT.. she thinks that Piolo (spelling?) Pascual Filipino actor guy is cute.


She won't believe me when I told her that he's gay like a row of pink camping tents.

Oh well.


So yeah, I had my usual glycopeel cleaning/extraction facial.

For the first time in ages, I didn't feel any pain today. God knows why. I usually have low tolerance for pain, expecially while having a facial done. I know I scream like a pregnant prostitute bitch in labor every time my aesthetician extracts a white head from one of my blocked pore.

Today's lack of pain made me think about things I don't usually think about on a day-to-day basis.

For instance, sometime last week, I told a friend on how I'm starting to get bored. I expressed my desire to experience something new, like, learn a new skill or take up cooking classes.

She suggested that we learn a foreign language together... take up French at one of those Alliance Francaise centers. I told her sure, why not. We even checked the availability online and the session that we want won't start until October. There's a 3rd and 4th session but we're both planning to travel around June/July/August.

While the lady pricked my face, I realized I'm at that stage where everything is just stagnant. I'm turning into a stale, 20-something.

I mean, I know I've changed tremendously in the past 12 months. However, if I look at it on a different perspective, it feels as if I'm not going anywhere. My life's at a standstill and I'm doing the same things over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.

I told my friend this and she thinks "I've gone so far and achieved so much already".

042606_facial1I remember the old times when I used to deny myself from owning to what I've achieved in order to delude myself into thinking I have a tiny bone of humility inside me.

But I still can't can't help but ask myself the $64 million question.


Let's face it, I won't deny that all I do is shop, shop, shop, work, work, work, shop, shop, shop, spread my faggotry to the world, shop, work, eat, eat, eat, spread my faggotry to the world, shop, shop, spread my faggotry to the world.

It's gotten to the point where it's like a routine.

Shit, it's MY routine.

Everything used to be fun. Every time I get a material 'acquisition'...a  bag, a jacket, everything... it brings a genuine smile to my face and I feel soo... contented. I know I once said that being severely materialistic makes up for my lack of non-material things in life. But in all honesty, I don't take my sense of materialism too seriously. Afterall, it's only material stuff!

Enough ranting. I already sound like a broken record.

I think it might be therapeutic if I list what I want to happen SOON.

  • have a clear sense of direction on where I'm heading
  • experience something NEW and FUN!
  • learn something NEW... a new skill, a new hobby, whatever

(Would you believe I even went as far as researching VOLUNTEER OPPORTUNITIES in countries like ECUADOR and ROMANIA? I don't know what came over me considering there's over 80 million people who need help in my own backyard. My familia de horreur had always told me to stay away from hallucinogenic drugs and the people who take them.)


Before you go on a high horse and bombard me with your PREDICTABLE sanctimonious crap, I'm begging you to please avoid telling me to

  • just be "myself" (and)
  • donate to charity.

An escape from reality is what I need. Away from the blog, the Chanel, the Fendi, the Goyard, the shopping, the facials, the cellphone, the internet, the familia de horreur and of course, the sheer thought at the back of my mind that I'm surrounded by vultures who are constantly looking for that perfect opportunity to devour me alive.

I need a holiday. A 1 or 2 month-long vacation. Somewhere extremely remote and far-flung but close to civilization. Somewhere where nobody knows me and I know nobody.

Somewhere like Skåne, Sweden.

I want to be surrounded by nature. I want to pick fresh flowers, see trees, ride a huge horse. I want to buy a lot of art materials and learn how to paint scenery etc., that sort of thing. I also want to get gangbanged by well-hung farmboys and have hot and horny mixed-race baby-making sex on top of a tractor.

Remember Jakob, the Swedish guy I met up with in Copenhagen> He's the only person in the world who managed to made me walk (and you KNOW I despise walking) for like 2-3 hours just to find that bloody Little Mermaid Statue?


Well, he offered to take me to his summer house in Varberg middle of nowhere bumfuck Sweden.

If I take him up on his offer that beats the purpose of me travelling somewhere where "no one knows me and I know nobody".

Hmmm pakipot ka pa alam mo naman kung saan matutuloy yan.

I wanna go to Skåne god dammit.

Oh I'm just soooo bored with life right now. All I need is change. That's all.


PS. Discuss this blog post here.

PPSS. The only thing that making life worth living is your love. And John Galliano.

Bryanboy loves Erick from Vandenberg AFB (Air Force Base?) California. Erick sweetie you do know that one of goals in life is to get gangbanged by the military/navy/army/men in black etc, right? PLEASE GET SOME OF YOUR AIR FORCE BUDDIES TO STRIP NAKED AND HOLD AN I LOVE BRYANBOY SIGN FOR ME.


Screw the don't ask don't tell policy. If I get gangbanged by men in uniform, I want MAXIMUM MILEAGE, MAXIMUM PUBLICITY. I want to make a shitload of MONEY and sell videos of it.

Failing that, the Bryanboy pose picture will do just fine. :)


You really love me do you now? Can I ride your aeroplane? It's my aeroplannnneeee...


Alex from Tasmania, Australia. Big kisses from me to you. I love ya lots darling even if you sent me a damn photochopped photo. I SAID NO PHOTOSHOPPED ONES... HAHAHA ;)


This set of photos is better than PORN!!! I jacked off 10 times and my balls are the size of raisins. Courtesy of Clair from Perth, Australia.

(This is what I call TRUE LOVE)





I'm gonna go to sleep now. I have a photo shoot later today.


PS. Discuss this blog post here.

April 04, 2006

Long, Hot Summer, Man Meat, Random Cheesemax

Long, Hot Summer


Remember how I recently complained on how I *NEVER* get free trips?

Well, I got my first ever "free" vacation without paying a single dime on BOTH the airfare and hotel accommodations.

I just got back yesterday morning from a wonderful weekend in Boracay Island, one of my favourite islands here in the third world. The Local Government of Malay, Aklan and SEA Air sent over 120 members of the press, local designers, models and celebrities for a weekend of food, fun and frolics. SEA Air flies several dozen times daily from Manila - the fastest way to go to the island... 35 minutes! I stayed at the Pearl of Pacific resort.

Speaking of summer, it was sooo hot in the island I was sweating VODKA round the clock. I swear to my grandmother's grave that vodka overflowed the mother fuckin island... the more I drink, the more I sweat. I pretty much got intoxicated each and every night I was there. In fact, I got back to my old drunk dialling habits; I drunk-dialled some of my girlfriends in Manila (and all over the place) at friggin 4 in the morning. I got soooo hammered one night and I rang some of my friends whilst running on the beach on the way back to the hotel at dawn - alone and drunk. Ugh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In spite of being on the island for 4 days, I only managed to swim once and sunbathe for about 10 minutes! I'll definitely come back though (soon) and enjoy what the island really has to offer, sea, sun and sand, amongst other things, with very close friends and/or family.

P.S. Boys and girls, you gotta check out that new place called Asya Resort. It's sooo GORGEOUS! All of their chic guestrooms are decorated in a modern manner and the bathrooms are extremely spacious. I love that resort and I'll most definitely stay there the next time I'm back in the island.

Man Meat

What's up with the abundance of guys emailing me recently?

From NYC to California, I've been getting a lot of emails (and pictures that can give any random dirty old pundit a hard on without using viagra) from all these guys recently.

For the life of god, just get a bloody plane ticket and come visit me here in the third world/Las Islas Filipinas! You know who you are. Plane tickets are cheap and I'll give you a lovey lovey good time!

Meet Jose Luis from Mexico.



Continue reading "Long, Hot Summer, Man Meat, Random Cheesemax" »

February 26, 2006

Whether you like it or not, this country is fabulous. Bryanboy reigns supreme.

Bryanboy reigns supreme.

This breaking news is brought to you by

You gotta love all that drama going on at one of the key forts in the Philippines. There's a ton of hoola baloo involving the Marines... same old political-related drama etc.

I'm not even gonna bother with the specifics. Go to CNN, BBC or Google News.

One of my assistants is currently on the field taking photos...


For god's sake just stop all this drama and get on with your lives.

This country is beautiful.

This country is fabulous.

This country is great.

Long live third world prostitution.

Long live the land of ugly, fat hookers with cellulite.


Long live mixed raced babies as a result of prostitution and miscegenation. Mixed-raced babies are the Chanel of babies.

Long live the land of little brown fuck machines.

Long live the land of the brown, l'exotique and the natives.


Long live


I love you all.

But I love Chanel more.


I'd love to hear what you think. Email or SMS +63-195-785-1492.


PS. Discuss this blog post here.


February 14, 2006



Gutom = Hunger

I thought I'd post this entry while it's fresh from my asshole. I'd probably forget about it when I resurrect from my beauty sleep tomorrow.

I know it's Valentine's Day where I live and I'm supposed to be keeping an eye out on my email accounts, landline and mobile phone for a man who will wine, dine and buy me something from Cartier on the last minute.

However, hunger striked again and I had no choice but to raid the larder for a midnight snack.

I grabbed a Gatorade, a bag of Lays and some high-voltage salsa before going to my mom's room. My mom is the ultimate partner in crime when it comes to my binge-eating sins.

She told me to stay and watch this documentary about a reporter who chose to live the day-to-day life of a starving citizen of the land of the brown, l'exotique and the natives and provide an in-depth perspective on how they survive in these hard times.


She specifically said "I hope you think twice before reaching out for your credit card when you buy another Chanel bag."

"Great," I thought.

I'm gonna have another social awareness lesson from a mad woman who once said some of the people in my country are similar to poultry because of their inability to stop producing a shitload of offspring in spite of their economic conditions. I have to give the woman some credit... it's the truth, whether you like it or not.


Anyway, the reporter met this 28 year old married man with 8 kids. He decided it would be best to spend an entire day with him. The man lives in the shanty with no electricity etc.



He sells empty plastic bottles on the street for a living. He can't even afford transportation... he walks more than 5 kilometers to go to the market to sell his bottles.

He also has to make at least US$2.50 a day in order to provide 1 meal for his wife and 8 kids which consists of a kilo of rice and a can of sardines. That's their entire meal for the day.

1 can of sardines = 10 human beings

Most of the time, he doesn't even make that US$2.50. So what they do is just buy rice... and some salt. If you think that's awful, wait till you read this: there are days when he doesn't make any money AT ALL.

The following day, the reporter went to another area where he met a man who has 13 kids. You read that right.


His plight is similar to the first man. Too many kids, too little money/food.


He even thought of turning into crime for a fast buck... but he hated the idea of doing so because it would be terrible for the kids if he went to jail.

He was literally in tears when he was being interviewed.


At that point, I think I've seen enough.

I had an enormous lump in my throat whilst watching the drama of people at the bottom of the.... to say "food chain" would be an overstatement cause they HAVE LIMITED ACCESS TO FOOD.

In an effort to lift my spirits up, I suddenly thought that it might be therapeutic if ALL of the world's anorexics and bullemics move to Las Islas Filipinas.

But alas, the lump in my throat didn't go away.

It really made me think how BLESSED I am to be in the position where I'm in...

And I'm not just saying that so I'll look good in YOUR eyes.

My gut says that you probably think I really don't give a flying fuck about these rodents who doesn't know when to stop fucking a vagina.

Don't worry, I won't take it against you personally if that's what/how you think.

To the uninitiated... or to the newbie, my little narcissistic shrine has always been a tribute to me, myself and I, my love affair for all things fabulous, luxurious, hedonistic... my love for travel, shopping, handbags, designer goods, my never-ending quest for acceptance from others and of course, my vain and pathetic attempts to looking good.

A lot of people wonder whether I give to charity because "all I do"  (which, in my books, mean = all they SEE or all I WANT THEM to SEE) is have fun.

In my opinion, the point of giving to charity is to support the charity's cause... voluntarilty, discreetly and something that comes from the heart.

I don't understand the need to publicize or to tell anyone whenever I donate to charity. Private acts of kindness need not to be shown or told to anyone.


Perhaps I'll publicize, yes, in my own circle, if, for example, I (or they) need support... fundraising events etc.

What do you want me to do... go around telling I donated this, I donated that? That's ridiculous. Only people who run in public office do that.

Moving on...

At this point, I'm not even gonna point fingers and play the blame game as to who the culprit is. The damage is already here. There are people starving and they need help.

Don't ask me for a solution either. My mere 2 brain cells is not capable of thinking something for the long-term.

I'll be honest: thinking about eradicating poverty gives me rashes and hemorrhoids.



But as someone who, UNFORTUNATELY, have luck on his sides (thanks to his ridiculous antics and vulgar mind) to empower people, the best that I can offer at this point is AWARENESS.

Afterall, proper awareness can ignite something big... something that can benefit others instead of ourselves.

That doesn't mean we should stop buying Chloe clothes or Yves Saint Laurent accessories. I know that's what I did earlier this afternoon.

Shit, with everything that I said above, I should run for Miss fucking World 2006.

I'm sure I'd get the crown.

Email or SMS +63-915-785-1492.

I love you all.


February 07, 2006

Hello Superstar!, Dazzling Daphne, Ageing Gracefully

Ediesedgwick002Hello Superstar!

"When i woke up this photographer was humping me. It's like being a nympho... not nymhomaniac. What do you call those dead people? I can't remember. Huh? Necrophilia? I really was furious... I couldnt move!

Whatever it was in that drink... I was like a dead body... so it was like he was screwing a corpse! More twisted!

Wow... I never went back there."
-- Edie Sedgwick

Click HERE to watch a snippet from Ciao! Manhattan.

My newfound obsession with Edie Sedgwick, one of Andy Warhol's original superstars back in the 1960s, is starting to become unhealthy.

I must have spent no less than 20 hours in the past few days reading (and watching) everything there is to need about her.

I'm absolutely fascinated with her life; she's the classic poor little rich girl. Her fame was manufactured and she celebated her wealth on her sleeve, wearing all these fabulous clothes and jewelry until she was penniless. EdiesedgwickShe also went from top to rock bottom in such a fast time... eventually dying at age 28 from a drug overdose.

I hope it's NOT gonna be my story. I have to admit that for some strange reason, all roads lead to that direction.

Minus the drugs, the wealth and the self-destruct button... haha!

I found another video on You Tube featuring a better video of her with Velvet Underground singing "After Hours" in the background.

Click here to watch that video.


I love her sooo much that I even sang and recorded something for you guys...

My singing talent can seriously give that William Hung a run for his money - I CAN'T SING!!!!!!!!

"If you close the door, the night could last forever. Keep the sunshine out and say hello to never. All the people are dancing and they're havin such fun... I wish it could happen to me. But if you close the door, I'd never have to see the day again."

Click here to download the sound clip I made.


Isn't my drag queen voice lovely? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Borrow Don't Buy! 468x60

Dazzling Daphne

I went to the TV station early on Sunday eveing for another live interview. This time it's for a lifestyle-related show called "ANC Life" hosted by Daphne Osena-Paez.

One of my very good friends took pics of her tv screen. Thanks babe. I STILL OWE YOU DINNER (OR LUNCH) FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!!!


If you're not from the land of the brown, l'exotique and the natives (aka Las Islas Filipinas), the picture below will give you an idea on what she looks like. I stole it from Herword because my maid left my camera batteries in the car. I wanted to kick my ass for NOT being able to camwhore. UGH!

DaphneDaphne and her assistant took a couple of pictures so hopefully I'll get it soon.


Her presence swallowed me alive as soon as I arrived at the dressing room - the fantastic little black number, those yummy pearls, the gorgeous shoes, the Louis Vuitton Speedy, the Cartier Santos and of course, the HAIR!!!!! She was effortless chic at its finest; I was GOBSMACKED.

What are the chances of me being...



Probably slim to none. Perhaps effortless cheap.

I'm already having rashes with the thought of me being associated with those two words.


On the set, I couldn't help but stare at Daphne's legs. THEY ARE SOOOO SKINNY AND LONG!!!!

No, I'm not a lesbian.

Her legs are just sooooo long and skinny and nice and her shoes are gorgeous!!!!!!!!!!

Why aren't my legs like that?



I keep on forgetting that.


Anyway, I think I did well on my interview based on the positive feedback I got from some of my very good friends (I'm doubting myself for not doubting their honesty - do i make any sense?) and readers who happened to saw the interview.


I wish there are classes or courses that I can take to express myself articulately and eloquently in public. Getting tongue-tied all the time and not being able convert your thoughts into spoken words is sooo not funny.

Nevertheless.... I think I did good!!! YAY!


Practice makes perfect... 2 live TV interviews in 2 weeks... what a great learning experience!

Ageing Gracefully


I thought I'd take the yellow brick road once again down memory lane and look how I've changed over the years.

Judging from some of my photos from the past, the only thing that I can say at this point is....



The camera doesn't lie.

It's official: I get prettier the farther I run away from my birth certificate.

Heck, if this is an indicator of what my future will be, I can't wait to turn 75 and wear Oscar De La Renta.

Think how hideous I looked back then, how fabulous I am now and how gorgeous I'll be tomorrow.


I'll post some of my recent pictures so you won't get shocked by what you are about to see.







These pictures were taken in Amanpulo Island during Gisele's hey day. All throughout that holiday, I was deluded into thinking my name is Gisele Bundchen with the help of my size 24 Earl Jeans and all.


Man, I just remembered a funny story about the Dolce & Gabbana swarovski belt (the one that launched a million knock-offs) in that picture.

A couple of months after that photo was taken, I flew to London for a vacation.

I went clubbing on my last night in Londres and I arrived at the airport late and completely off my tits.

I dropped the belt to the floor (no closures, they were held with a velcro strap) while boarding the plane.

I was sooo drunk at that time. The only thing I wanted to do is to go to my seat and sleep.

After the captain did his speech, he went on about some lady who might have dropped a belt...

A few seconds later, he said something like:


Everyone on the plane laughed.

I looked at my waist and realized holy shit, my belt's gone missing!

You should have seen the look on my face as I gulped my gin tonic.

I didn't ask for my belt. I was soo embarassed to ask for it cause the captain said it's a women's belt.

That's when I realized, shit, I have pride!

Honestly speaking, these days, give me designer goods anytime and I'll throw my pride down the river.

Moving on...

One of the benefits of being skinny? A fantastic jawline.

Sadly, that jawline is GONE. GONE, GONE, GONE, GONE, GONE.


This picture is just plain ugly. I'm at a loss on what to say.


This is me having a Zoolander moment in Bali, Indonesia 5 years ago. This photo was taken at friggin 9 in the morning on my way to Ubud Market. Oh the memories.... I was too drunk on the photo.






Yep, even my US$7,000 Gucci python pants, which is size 38, was fuckin BAGGY on me. THIS PHOTO WAS TAKEN 6 FUCKIN YEARS AGO!!!!


I got a ton of mileage from those pants.

I wore them fucking everywhere.

Even to Trafalgar Square, just to be covered with pigeon shit.


I guess I used to smile lots back when I was younger.

This photo was taken about 7 or 8 years ago at a bus stop in Reykjavik.





The ugly duckling turned into a swan indeed.


Touch my bum... this is life!

Bryanboy Loves... and Random Cheesemax

#1 - Bryanboy loves people from Bintulu, Sarawak Malaysia, Bod, Norway, Stillwater, OK, Quincy, MA, Zegvelderbroek, Netherlands, Binghamton, NY, Huddinge, Sweden, San Francisco, CA, Elsternwick, VIC Australia, Richmond Hill, ONT Canada, Neset, Norway, Madison, WI, De Valk, Netherlands, London, ONT Canada and of course, all the gorgeous boys and girls in Segeltorp, Sweden. I LOVE YOU ALL. I REALLY DO!

#2 - Flak makes the world go round.

Missy from Miami, FL emailed me and asked what kind of flak I get on a day-to-day basis. Here's a random sampling.



FYI, This is PETE BURNS. I think he's actually better-looking than me. Non?

#3 - I almost got a cardiac arrest when I opened my inbox earlier looking at this, courtesy of KS from Malaysia who recently went to Hong Kong. This is probably the BIGGEST Louis Vuitton bag in the world.



Thank you, thank you, thank you.


#4 - BRYANBOY LOVES THAOVU and the entire Vietnamese community in the United States of George W. Bush.


As always, you know where to send pictures of your unconditional love. Email me you lazy bitches:


I think that's it for now.

You all know where to contact me. SMS +63-915-785-1492 if you're gorgeous, generous and well-hung like a stallion.


January 11, 2006

How Can Someone Be So Drunk And Still Look Good?, Terrific Tuesday, OMG Eureka!

How Can Someone Be So Drunk And Still Look Good?

Here's another reason why you should hate Paris Hilton. How in the world can she be drunk and still look fucking good?



I certainly don't look that good when I'm drunk.

Hell, sober or not, I don't look that good.

End of story.

Terrific Tuesday

Yesterday was a blast. I kicked off my day with a mini shopping trip to the city with my little sister.

I wanted to buy a present for a good friend (whose birthday is today) but I ended up buying a few things for myself. I picked up some incense, a necklace, a bracelet, a Gucci top, some Nars and Yves Saint Laurent cosmetics.

As always, no shopping trip is complete without paying a visit to my favourite haunt, M Cafe at the Ayala Museum. I had my usual lemongrass prawns + mango salad and oysters. I seriously love that place.


My sis even made me smile, in spite of having a bad hair day. Everyone knows I *NEVER* smile when it comes to photos. I hate it. I always end up looking like:

1) a rapist
2) a fake, plastic fantastic person
3) a psychopath
4) a devious, spiteful little bitch
5) and of course, a murderer

You be the judge and tell me what you think.


Apres dinner, my sis and I went home so I can shower, change clothes and go to a friend's birthday party at Citrus.

I know I've been gone for (only) a month and a half but it felt as if I was gone for years. It was quite bizarre at first to see soo many familiar faces in the land of the "same old same old" - your friends, your former friends, your acquaintances, your new acquaintances, your backstabbers and your frenemies.

It's all nice and wonderful though. It's way better than staying at home in front of the computer (like what I usually do 95% of the time).


In spite of the booze, the palpitations and the pretense, I always learn something new every time I go out.

I always believed that I'm little miss imperfection in a bottle. Screw the cork open and I'll create a spectacle. The more bottles you open, the further I perfect my act.

I admit - I still need to polish my social skills. Sometimes I feel like a fool for not being able to manage a decent conversation. When people ask questions, I want to be able to answer them eloquently.

The only time I can manage a decent conversation is when:

1) I'm being a bitch
2) I'm whining and complaining about something
3) the other person and I are gossipping about other people

I guess the hardest part is whenever people throw the ball in my court and ask questions about myself.

To an extent, I'm still uncomfortable talking about myself to other people, hence it's easier to talk about others.


I was gonna add something to that "to an extent" sentence but I just realized why my blog exists!

Now I know why I'm such a pretentious, narcissistic cunt online. It's because....


I think it's true though.

I know I'm being completely rude. The reason why they're asking questions about me is because they're interested at me and would like to get to know me.

Anyway, back to yesterday's events.... I have a manicure and pedicure appointment in an hour. I have to finish this post and get ready. Save the drama for a later time.

So yeah... I ended up drunk last night.

I was sooo FUCKING drunk I made statements like:

1) You know, I think I'm going to stop wearing tank tops and t-shirts for a month.
2) I think I'm gonna start wearing button-down shirts from now on.
3) I despise you!!!!!!
4) I'm not horny. I've lost my libido as soon as I landed at the (Manila) airport. (I told this to some guy who was cruising me at the toilets).

I wish I took more pictures last night but I was too drunk to function.



I love you all as always. Email or SMS +63-915-785-1492.


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